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SOLDIER SONGS
And the darkness that chokes like a vapor
Is thronged with the visions which come
Of children and wife and the dear things of life That peopled the lost cabin home.
Till the East flushes red with the morning
And the dawn-wind springs fresh o'er the plain,
And the reveille's note from the bugle's clear throat Calls us up to our labors again.
We were not in the fight at Antietam, We never have seen Wilson's Creek,
We were guiding our trains over Iowa's plains While the shells at Manassas fell thick,
But we're waging a war for a new land As the East wages war for the old,
That the mountains and plains of the red man's domains May be brought to Columbia's fold,
And though only a squad of militia
That the armies back East never knew,
We are playing a game which is largely the same With the truculent, turbulent Sioux. |
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